At 70, I Retired and Went Home to Celebrate with My Family Only to Find Out They Kicked Me Out That Same Day – Story of the Day

Bonnie went quiet for a second. Then reached out and squeezed my hand.

“Well, you’re not sleeping on no porch tonight. You’re staying here.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble…”

“Trouble? Sweetheart, this is the most exciting thing that’s happened on this street since I caught Mr. Mullins trimming his hedges in leopard boxers.”

I laughed, despite the sting in my chest.

Bonnie leaned back in her chair. “So… what now?”

“I don’t want to fight. Not in court. Not with Tom. I just… I can’t lose my grandkids.”

“Then we don’t fight loud. We fight smart.”

I glanced out her kitchen window. The porch of my house was still dark.

“She’s hiding something.”

Bonnie raised a brow.

“I’ve seen her sneaking around lately. Whispering on the phone. And when Tom’s away? She glows.”

Bonnie grinned. “Well, well. Little Miss Perfect’s got secrets.”

“I’m gonna stay here. Let her think I went quietly. And in the meantime… I’ll find out what she’s up to. Let’s just say, Nana’s not done yet.”

***

We didn’t know where to start.

“She’s hiding something, sure,” I said, sipping coffee in Bonnie’s kitchen, “but it’s not like she texts her affair updates to the neighbors.”

Exactly twenty-four hours into our “investigation,” something caught our eye. Bonnie’s window faced my house. She gasped and pointed.

“Speak of the devil. There’s your gardener.”

“Gary?” I leaned closer. “He’s early. He usually comes on Saturdays.”

“Today’s Thursday,” Bonnie said, narrowing her eyes.

“Maybe he changed his schedule?”

“Or maybe he’s always had two schedules. One for the grass, one for the… other stuff.”

I frowned. “I wouldn’t know. Saturdays, Tom’s home, and the other days, Delia always sends me off with the kids. Thought she was being nice.”

That hit me in the chest like a bag of bricks. We exchanged a look, then both stood at the same time.

“We follow him,” Bonnie said.

“But I can’t be seen.”

Bonnie grinned and rummaged through her hallway closet. Twenty minutes later, I stood in her yard wearing an oversized hoodie, large sunglasses, a baseball cap, and her late husband’s fishing vest.

Bonnie adjusted the hood.

“There. You look like a confused tourist from Nebraska.”